


Anger in the Wind

by silurianarc



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Familiar!Cora, Magic!Stiles, at leat initially, more tags will be forthcoming, the pack are assholes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-11 19:26:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10472385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silurianarc/pseuds/silurianarc
Summary: Ten years ago he left Beacon Hills. Ten years ago, he split himself from the pack that used to be his family, his friends. Ten years ago he made the decision that if he wasn't wanted in Beacon Hills anymore, he was never going back.That was ten years ago. This is now.---A magic storm threatens Beacon Hills. Stiles goes back to protect the people who were once family to him.---Flashes between THEN and NOW.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfic. Writing, at least. I read a lot. That's besides the point.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like it! Let me know what you think!

NOW

Ten years ago he left Beacon Hills. Ten years ago, he split himself from the pack that used to be his family, his friends. Ten years ago he made the decision that if he wasn't wanted in Beacon Hills anymore, he was never going back. 

That was then. This is now. 

Now there were whispers about some sort of magic storm coming. A magic so intense that it could decimate magical communities and the people who lived around them. And while he was still angry with his old pack, Stiles would be damned if he let them, or his father, die because he was too damn stubborn to squelch his anger, pain, and sadness long enough to give them protections for the potentially devastating magic storm. 

He looked at the woman at his side, gazing into her eyes. She looked back, a tight lipped smile on her face. She took his offered hand with hers and squeezed it in encouragement. It was their journey to make together. It was just as much her homecoming, if not more so, than it was his. 

Besides. They had unfinished business with this pack. He knew they would have to go back and face them eventually. Especially him.

A magician needs to face his demons. 

\---

THEN

It all started, or so Stiles had thought, with two words: fuck off.

Now, Stiles was not one to hold in his curses, in fact he had read several articles on the correlation between cursing and intelligence, but maybe, just maybe, he should have kept his mouth shut.

Those fateful words were spoken to, of course, Scott. It would be his best friend, though quite honestly, Stiles didn't think that moniker fit Scott the way it once did, who would be the inception of his forceful removal from the pack.

He hadn't felt comfortable in the pack for months at this point. He couldn't really pin it down. Maybe it was how Derek never really looked at Stiles or acknowledged him when he spoke. Maybe it was how the other males of the group would so often leave Stiles behind because, as the human, he couldn't keep up. Maybe it was how Lydia and Danny kept nitpicking at him and how no one, except him, would seem to disagree with them. Maybe it was even, as the only other human in the group, Allison, while still sweet, seemed to be pulling away from him as well. Stiles didn't know what had happened, what he could have possibly done for the pack to alienate him like this. But it seemed as something had changed as their senior year in high school came to a close. 

Of all the things to set him off, an afternoon at the local swimming hole seemed to be the least likely. The others were swimming, all except Lydia, Allison and Erica. And Peter. Even Derek was in the pond with Scott, Boyd, Isaac, Danny, and even Jackson, playing some sort of silly tag game. Cora had even joined in, though Stiles knew she just did it to bond with the pack. Stiles was, predictably, reading. He hadn't wanted to even go today, but was outvoted by the others. Stiles didn’t like to swim. He hadn’t since the incident with Jackson—or really, with the Kanima—and preferred to stay to either the edge of the water, or not in it at all. He wasn’t afraid, exactly, not like Matt had been. But—there were other things that he could be doing. Like reading. So that’s what he was doing. Besides, he was in the shade. You can’t get burned in the shade. Besides, he had a headache. 

It wasn’t until Scott decided that Stiles had been sitting out on the sidelines for far too long that things started to go wrong. It began innocently enough. Scott jogging out of the water and up to where Stiles was sitting just under the tree line.

“Come on, Stiles! What’s the point of coming if you’re not going to get in? Come join the fun!” Scott stood there, dripping, with a grin on his face. That honestly made Stiles what to smack him. 

Stiles looked at his friend and gave him a tight lipped smile. “I don’t want to go in, Scott. I’m having a good time reading.” It was true. Deaton had given him a book on runes. Not that Stiles could necessarily do anything with the runes, as far as he knew. But Deaton had given him the book to read. Just in case it comes down to it, the veterinarian had told him. Stiles thought he knew what that meant.

Scott didn’t look convinced, and a bit annoyed. “Come on, Stiles,” he repeated. “We’re going to switch to water volley ball. We need another player.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “You could ask Allison. Or Lydia, or Erica. I’m reading, Scotty.” Stiles vaguely waved the book in his direction. 

“You can read anytime,” Scott huffed, starting to sound a bit more annoyed and completely ignoring Stiles’ suggestion of using one of the girls. Scott made a grab for the book with his wet hands as Stiles was waving it. Scott’s fingers closed on thin air as Stiles jerked the book backwards, smacking himself in the head with it. Great, now his headache was worse. 

Stiles glared at him. “Dude, don’t touch it. It’s delicate. I think. You’ll stain it with water.” 

The werewolf just laughed at the undignified thump, annoyance receding a bit. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Come on, join us.” Scott grabbed Stiles by the forearm and started tugging at him, forcing him to stand up.

“Dude, let go of me!” Stiles squawked, trying to yank his arm out of Scott’s grip. 

“Just join them, Stiles, Jesus,” Allison drawled from where she was laying on the pond’s beach, face masked with an enormous pair of sunglasses. “I want to go back to sleep.”

“Sorry to ruin your beauty sleep, Princess,” Stiles retorted. “I didn’t know it was in such sort supply, lately.” He was still trying to tug his arm out of Scott’s grip, without much luck.

Then Scott dropped the human’s arm and glared at him. “Dude, don’t say that to Allison!” 

“I wouldn’t have said it if you had left me the hell alone! I didn’t want to come here in the first place! So fuck off!”

Stiles had just enough sense to toss his precious book back onto the blanket he had been sitting on before Scott took him in a tackle. It wasn’t a friendly tackle either. It was kind of a blur after that. Scott got a few hits in before Peter, who hadn’t gotten in the water with everyone else, was on them, pulling Scott off. The other rushed up from the water, and the sand, to help Peter pull Scott off Stiles and Shepard him a little away to calm him down. Stiles, still dazed a bit from the hits, got to his feet, staggered over to his stuff, grabbed his book and bag, and left on the walking trail back to the cars. 

He had no idea how the fuck this had happened. It wasn’t like he had provoked the attack. He hadn’t even really been rude to Allison, just snarked at her like he usually did with everyone. But in hindsight Stiles could tell this was different. There had been some sort of tension in the air that he couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t really magical in nature, he thought, but it did have a similar flavor to it—

Footsteps on the path awoke him to the fact that someone was approaching from the pond. He turned around to face whoever it was to tell them to leave him alone, but stopped when he saw who it was. Cora. 

She had grabbed her own bag but was still only wearing her black two piece. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a bun and she wasn’t wearing shoes, though Stiles supposed that as a werewolf, she didn’t really need them.

Cora walked up to him and he gave her a small sad smile as she reached him and twinned their fingers together. He heaved a sigh as she took the pain from his bruises and headache. She didn’t say anything, but then, she didn’t half to. Of all the pack, it was Cora who had known what was happening to him. How the others were treating him. She’s the one who first had brought it to Stiles’ attention, though he knew something was off. They had spoken about it, many times, and what move might get him to the point of doing—well, they’d reached it. Scott had attacked him in anger. Derek had done nothing. No one but Cora had come to find him after the altercation. Hell, no one had stopped him from leaving the clearing! 

It was time, past time, that Stiles left the pack. Though he still couldn’t believe it was something so inconsequential that sparked his departure. He had no idea what would happen to his—friends? He didn’t think he could call most of them his friends anymore—if he left, or how they would react. Would they be sad? Angry? Or would they be relieved? Stiles didn’t know, and at this point, especially with claw marks on his shoulders, he didn’t particularly care. 

And it was time to find that school of magic that Deaton told him about. And Cora was coming along.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! i hope you guys enjoy this as we come into monday!

NOW

Stiles knocked on his father’s door and waited with a stillness that those who had known him would be surprised to see. He was a bit nervous. While he had kept in contact with the Sheriff since he left Beacon Hills, this was the first time in a long time that he was seeing his father face-to-face. It wasn’t that they were estranged. But—well, leaving the place of one’s birth with little notice and with limited initial explanations had created a distance that was only matched by their physical separation.

Glancing behind him, Stiles took in the quite street. Nothing seemed to have changed in the ten year since he stormed out of his childhood home. The streetlamps were lit in the growing dark, seeming to cast a warning on the pavement for troublemakers. Like Stiles had been. The thought made him smile.

He turned back around as John Stilinski opened the door and stood in shock at his son. Stiles guessed that his father never expected him to return to Beacon Hills any time soon, or ever. Especially since their last phone conversation ended with Stiles vehemently denying that he was ever going to return. But since then, Stiles had learned some things, serious and potentially dangerous things, which quite literally forced his hand. 

“Hi Dad,” Stiles said, hoisting his small duffle higher on his shoulder while giving John a small smile. “It’s good to—OOF!” 

Stiles words were cut off as the Sheriff pulled him into a crushing hug. Stiles hugged him back just as ferociously with many back slaps and squeezes. After what seemed like an age, the Sheriff finally let his son go, a huge grin on his face. “Stiles! This is a surprise.” He looked past his son as the shadows shifted, revealing a woman with a duffle over her own shoulder as she approached the father-son pair. “And Cora, too! Hello, darling.” He gave Cora a hug as well, though not so enthusiastic as the one he gave Stiles. Cora returned it too, with feeling. While she was reticent to touch most people, the Sheriff wasn’t just anyone. 

They let go of each other and John gestured to the door. “Well come in, come in! Don’t stand out on the front porch all night.” John ushered them inside and closed the front door, locking it like he always did. He moved past the youngsters and headed into the kitchen, Stiles and Cora trailing behind. They dropped their bags by the kitchen door and sat down at the kitchen table as the sheriff reached into the fridge and grabbed each of them a sprite. 

Stiles accepted his with a grin, Cora with a nod of thanks. As they opened their drinks and sipped, John joined them, having first taken the wall phone out of the cradle, setting it on the kitchen counter so they wouldn’t be interrupted. He opened his own bottle and took a swig before fixing Stiles with a stare.

“Now I’m happy to see you, and you, too, Cora, but while I am your doting father and enjoy spending time with you, there has to be something going on. Last time we spoke you were adamant about never returning home.” John glanced between the two of them and frowned. “What’s going on?”

Cora sighed and glanced at Stiles, indicating that she would speak. “We became aware of something. The Council hinted about it at the Assembly about a month ago, so there was some warning, but no one truly knew the details until a few days ago.” Stiles reached out and took her hand as she paused. She glanced at him and smiled before looking back at John and continuing. “We were asked to handle it—in part at least. We’re only one of the teams that the Council sent to deal with it. It seems to be moving here, and since we know the area so well, having being born here, the Council saw fit to send us to this station.” 

Stiles nodded and continued with a sour look on his face. “Not that we had any choice in the matter. We’re both attuned to Beacon Hills in a way that makes us an asset. We were sent here by ourselves first, but others might be joining us if the situation calls for it.”

John looked at both of them with a look of confusion on his face. When neither of them spoke up, he did. “But what is it? What’s coming to Beacon Hills?”

The travelers looked at each other for a moment before turning back to the Sheriff. “A storm is coming,” Stiles told his father. “A magic storm. It’s been building for years, apparently, but has only recently started to affect our plane. There are several focuses of magic power in the world that would be, if the storm was allowed to manifest, devastating to the communities that surround them. And I mean truly devastating.”

“We’re talking about the effect an earthquake, tsunami, several tornadoes, and a large wildfire would have if all occurred at the same time,” Cora added, eyes grave. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s seriously that bad. Small scale magic storms happen all the time, but no one has seen one on this scale for centuries. Beacon Hills contains the largest center of magic on the West Coast within its bounds. We’re here to protect it and the people. Prevent it if we can, along with the other teams.”

Stiles took up the narrative, watching his father, who looked like he was in both a state of panic and denial. “This is serious, Dad. Really serious. Serious enough that I came back here. I might be angry at the pack, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that get in the way of doing my duty.” Stiles nodded at Cora. “Cora agrees, and she’s got just as much reason to stay out of the Beacon Hills territory as I do. Derek wasn’t—pleased—when she decided to come with me when I left.” He glanced over at her, seeing the she-wolf frown as she traced patterns on her sprite can. “And it’s a good chance that they know we’re here. Or at least, that Cora or some other sort of werewolf is on the territory. I can mask our presence for a while, but eventually they’re going to find us. Do you mind if we stay a few days while we find a place to stay? We’re going to be here for a while.”

The Sheriff was still stuck between panic and denial, but was slowly moving toward acceptance and worry. He latched on the one thing that truly made sense. “Of course you can stay here! Stay as long as you like, in fact. You don’t need to get your own place while you’re here. That’s a serious expense—“

But Stiles shook his head. “The Council is covering the cost. They’re not without their income. Besides, there’s going to be a lot of prep work to do, and unfortunately, I can’t do it here. And if the pack figures out that it’s us, here is the first place they’ll look.” He held up a hand to stall his father’s protests. “I know that I’m going to have to talk to them eventually. I just want to hold it off as long as possible.”

John nodded at this and gave them both a tight smile. “Well, alright then. But do it sooner rather than later. I haven’t been keeping you updated on the pack because you’ve asked me not to, but there have been some changes in the past ten years. They’re not the same bunch of teenagers you knew.”


End file.
